


Ghost

by nidiveus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:05:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nidiveus/pseuds/nidiveus
Summary: Angela makes little progress in rehabilitating Widowmaker in the few months she was recaptured by Overwatch.





	1. Sign

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very familiar with writing but I just wanted to put this scene of WidowMercy out :~)  
> One-shot that may turn into multiple chapters...? I don't know...

3:01AM. The timestamp on the hologram blinked rhythmically. It also displayed the same page it did half an hour ago. In her chair Angela sat, hunched over multiple open reports on her table, as if in a catatonic state. Minutes pass in complete stillness.

Suddenly, she jolts up at the sound of a faint footstep, grabbing her caduceus blaster. She whirls around, pointing it in the direction of the noise.

“You know, you need to sleep more,” Ana chides, the side of the gun fit nicely into her outstretched palm. Swiftly and mechanically, she takes the gun out of Angela’s hands and places it back down on the table.

Angela exhales the breath she instinctively held in a sigh. “Ana… stop scaring me like that. I might really pull the trigger one day, you know?”

“That’s why I always stop the gun before the barrel is even pointed in my direction,” Ana huffs.

“What time is it?” Angela returns to her groggy self, guard let down in the presence of the older Amari. Ana may be in her sixties, but the only thing about her that reflected her age were the wrinkles on her face. She still stood strong, her voice unwavering and there was an aura of unmistakable power around her. She was one of the few people that Angela truly felt safe around.

“About 3AM. You’ve been awake for the past 29 hours. You should really get some shut eye, it’s counterproductive not to sleep,” Ana remarks, packing away the stacks of paper strewn across Angela’s desk.

“What about you? You, too, are also awake at this ungodly hour, doing who knows what. I rarely ever see you sleep either,” Angela mumbles, half-heartedly swatting at Ana, trying to shoo her hands away from her paper cluttered desk. Of course, Ana avoids all contact with Angela, moving her arms around in precision.

Ana smiles gently at her comment, but keeps silent while focusing on avoiding a tangle of arms.

“Tell me how you do it, Mama Bear,” Angela whines and gives up on trying to stop Ana. The dance their hands were doing were making her dizzy.

Ana chuckles at the mention of her squad’s nickname for her in the past.

“I only have one eye now, so that means I only need to sleep half the amount I used to with two eyes,” she explains matter-of-factly, all while going around Angela’s laboratory, putting all of Angela’s gadgets and whatnots back in their places, as per her weekly routine.

Only when she was finally done did Ana notice how unusually quiet Angela had been. Ana looked back at Angela, worried that she might have already died from the lack of sleep.

“Are you all r-“ she starts, making eye contact with a frozen, wide-eyed Angela. It was taking all that Angela had to process what Ana had just said.

Silence.

“W-what does that me-mean?“ Angela sputtered out.

“Good night, doctor.” With that, Ana slid her laboratory door shut, humming as she made her way back into the darkness of the base.

Angela slumped back into her chair, taking in the spots of her laboratory she hadn’t seen in a week from the mess she’s made. She sighs contently, grateful for the older Amari, which still remained a mystery to Angela, although having worked with her for years. She stares back at the hologram, a bit more awake and alert now. She decides to give into her body’s need for sleep, but not without going through her test results one more time. She picks up her tablet, and makes her way out of the lab.

_Amélie Lacroix. Recaptured by Overwatch just a few months ago from Talon._

Angela remembered the bond the both of them shared, before her two week disappearance. They didn’t spend much time around each other and only knew each other through her husband, but Angela felt strangely comfortable in her presence, as if they went way back. Amélie was one of the few, like Ana, that Angela held close.

_But better known as Widowmaker now._

Angela had spent these past few months trying to rehabilitate Widowmaker, reaching out to Amélie, but to no avail. Having ran numerous tests over and over and over again on Widowmaker with no significant constructive results (apart from shutting off her bloodlust for the agents), Angela is at her wits’ end. She scrunches up her nose as she rereads the results from the most recent test on her tablet for the hundredth time. _“What could I be missing?”_

_“Angela.”_

Angela swerves around to the sound of the French-accented voice, her heart skipping beats as she gets a whiff of the soothing smell of roses. She comes face to face with the ghost of Amélie. The blue skinned woman peered back at her. “Doctor Ziegler, it is 3:29AM. What are you doing?”

“What did you call me?” Angela, although hearing ‘Doctor Ziegler’ perfectly clear, had to make sure.

“Doctor Ziegler. Did I say something wrong?” Widowmaker questions, emotionless.

“Oh… No you didn’t say anything wrong... Where are you going?” Angela deflates.

“I am going out for a morning walk. Although I require sleep now, I am finding it quite difficult to fall asleep, still,” Widowmaker reports.

“Okay. Be safe,” Angela, disappointed, manages a weak and tired smile at her. Widowmaker nods in response, then stalks off with perfect posture and noiseless footsteps. Angela was almost certain she heard Widowmaker, or rather, Amélie, call her by her name. Not Doctor Ziegler, Doctor, nor Ms Ziegler. Angela. But after the encounter with the blue skinned woman, Angela decides to brush it off as a delusion from of the lack of sleep.

She enters the common room (although not really commonly used), where a large electronic fireplace lays dormant, and a pile of golden fur sprawled out on the wooden floor. Only the weak moonlight illuminated the walls and floors through the large windows. She bends down to ruffle the sleepy dog’s head with her free hand, then plops onto one of the two leather recliners in front of the fireplace. It was cold in autumn, but not cold enough to need to start it yet. The lump of fur, named Pucchi (insisted upon by Hana), got up and nestled itself again in front of Angela, where it resumed its slumber. Angela, grateful for the unspoken company, proceed to stuff her cold feet into the golden pile, sighing in relief for the warmth. She then resumed her analysis of the words and numbers on her tablet. There, she slowly dozed off in the comfort of the recliner, as compared to the hard office chair in her lab.

Two hours later, the early rising inhabitants of the base started to waken filling the deep hallways and chambers with echoes of minimal activity. Angela, still in a deep sleep due to her exhaustion, slept soundly. All the agents knew not to bother Angela during this time while she slept, or they may risk awakening a demon instead of the mild-mannered doctor they all know and love. They usually try and steer clear of the hibernating woman, daring not to cross a twenty meter radius of her so she would be left undisturbed.

However, this time, those unspoken rules were broken by someone. She leaves behind in the common room the scent of the comforting roses, but it was not the only thing she left behind. A plain, white blanket rests on top of Angela, belonging to the only room in the base that was completely white. No unnecessary décor, additions of colour or personalization to it. Which, in itself, was personalized. Widowmaker’s room.

Maybe Angela’s results were wrong, after all.


	2. A Possibility?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela questions her motivations for the Widowmaker research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, some expressions may seem weird...

“Stop squirming.” Angela forces the alcohol swab on the raw flesh, a stark contrast of red against the porcelain skin. The petite girl, pink-faced, had beads of sweat rolling down the side of her face.

“I’m trying! I can’t help it,” Hana groaned, the doctor pressing another swab into her wound.

“I’ve told you so many times not to go in alone! Look at what you did,” Angela raises her voice and Hana’s left arm up roughly, the disfigured limb dangling in front of her own face.

“Ow, gently, Angela! That hurts! Mercy, please…” Hana pouted, averting her eyes to avoid the piercing stare of the older woman. Sighing and shaking her head in disapproval, Angela went back to dressing the wound.

“By the way, I saw Widowmaker in the hallway just now. She seemed a bit out of it…” Hana absentmindedly asks after a few moments, oblivious to the flinch it garnered from the blonde. “I mean, it’s not like Widow has ever expressed any kind of emotion, but this was… different. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Angela perks up at Hana’s comment, her mind starting to wander. After the countless numbers of times she had expected for Widowmaker to be more than just ‘Widowmaker’ but only to be disappointed again, she knows better than to get her hopes up. But maybe, just maybe, this time, it’ll be different. The last time Angela woke up from a thirteen hour slumber was under a sheet of white, something she doesn’t remember placing over herself but has visited the pure white room all too many times to know who it belonged to. That moment of realization sparked some sort of hope and a strange feeling of warmth in her, but Angela hasn’t seen Widowmaker since then. In fact, she actually fears meeting her. Worried about her doubts being right.

“OUCH!” Hana’s cry broke Angela out of her own thoughts.

“Sorry, sorry. That was an accident,” Angela mutters, having accidentally pressed the metal too hard into her flesh. She forces her mind back to her task at hand. “It’s fortunate you’re left-handed,” she grumbles, looking up to shoot a threatening glare at Hana, but only being met a smug smile.

“I never knew you wanted an autograph! Why didn’t you just ask? You don’t have to be shy!” Hana laughs haughtily, but quickly chokes when Angela ‘accidentally’ presses too hard again.

…

After Hana left, Angela collapsed into her chair, rubbing her temples to alleviate the headache the stubborn nineteen year old gave her. She looked through her packed schedule, dreading the three hour long meeting that was up next. However, the appointment that followed made her even less excited. Widowmaker’s weekly check up.

She sipped on the last of her cold coffee, trying to squeeze any last bit of enjoyment she got from the dark liquid in the cup. She then got up with her notes, and proceeded to the meeting room.

On her way there, she bumped into the person she almost didn’t want to see.

“Doctor Ziegler,” Widowmaker greets.

“H-hello,” Angela replies, caught off guard. Her heart races upon meeting the owner of the sharp features. She quickly passes her and slips into the meeting room without looking back. She didn’t want to analyse of the lack of progress Widowmaker had made earlier than she needed to, and was just, for some reason, nervous to see her.

…

“Doctor Ziegler.” The voice came from outside her laboratory door. Angela, steeling herself, got up and opened the door for the expected visitor.

“How have you been?” Angela directs the question to the air as she turns away instantly after doing so.

Widowmaker enters the room, sitting on the chair across Angela’s desk after being granted permission. “I have been fine.”

Angela crinkles her forehead. _“The same old stoic speech pattern,”_ she thought.

Doctor and patient engaged in the same conversation they have every week, with the same questions and the exact same answers. Angela felt her heart sink deeper with every exchange. Widowmaker didn’t feel any more Amélie than she did when she came in.

“Well… I guess that’ll be it for today, thank you. Remember to log your body levels daily,” Angela sighs, standing to escort the taller woman out.

“You sound disappointed, Doctor. Is there something wrong?” Widowmaker asks, not moving.

Stunned, Angela sits back down after a brief pause. The blue-hued woman’s eyes followed her movement, making Angela feel uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to say. Widowmaker had never been receptive to the emotional response of others. She only processed things as what was ‘wrong’ and what was ‘right’, never as an expression of emotion.

“I-uh…” Angela didn’t even know where to start. “I mean- have you experienced any… changes? Of late?”

“Not that the statistics have shown,” Widowmaker replies.

“What about... emotionally?” Angela questions, a hint of hope being held back in her voice.

“I do not understand your question,” Widowmaker replies deadpan, again.

“Oh. Never mind, then. You may go now. Thanks for stopping by,” Angela says weakly, to which the other woman bows her head and makes her way back out of the lab.

That makes a whole month without any progress.

…

Angela sets her lunch tray down beside the silver-haired woman who was munching away on an apple, with nothing else on her tray other than three other apple cores. “Ana…” Angela groans, taking a seat.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Ana nonchalantly says, to no one in particular.

“It’s not your apples I’m groaning about. It’s Widowmaker.” Angela plops her head down beside her tray.

“Your little science experiment?” Ana raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t call her that,” Angela shoots, getting oddly defensive, but instantly deflates again.

“I don’t see what’s the problem. She’s no longer trying to kill everyone, right?” The older woman replies, getting back to her apple. Angela merely nods in response and in the process wipes the table with her cheek, garnering a sour face from Ana.

“Then, why are you still so obsessed with her?” Ana manages, through a mouthful of apple.

Silence between the two ensues, except for the crunching from Ana.

“ _Why_ am I so obsessed with her?” Angela, whispering to herself.

Just then, a small figure jumped into the two women’s view, standing on the seat across theirs to make herself seem taller.

“So, I overheard you two talking-” _“Hana, get down,”_ “-and decided to grace you with my expert opinion!” Hana chortles, standing proud on the seat with Brigitte, a charming, well-built, young woman, trying to get her to come down.

“You’re going to get footprints on the bench, and we’ll all know who the culprit is because no one else has such small feet,” Ana remarks to the side.

Deciding to ignore her comment, Hana continues. “Doctor Ziegler, you like Widowmaker!”

Silence ensues again, except for the crunching.

Angela is bewildered at Hana’s proclamation. “Of course I like her… am I not supposed to?” Angela, confused, questions.

“No! You don’t just like her, Angela. You like-like her!” Hana giggles, before being lifted off the bench by a pair of strong arms.

“Sorry to bother you two like this,” Brigitte, smiles apologetically with a squealing Hana in her arms.

“We all know how Hana can be,” Ana winks, intentionally ruffling Hana up. For some reason, Ana loved picking on Hana despite their age difference. She still had a childish side to her in spite of her motherliness, and that’s what made her even more lovable.

Nodding, Brigitte walks off with her luggage in hand. Angela, still trying to make sense of what Hana said, stared hard at her untouched food, deep in thought.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure this out. You always do,” Ana chuckles warmly, giving the blonde one last reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Angela can’t possibly have a crush on Widowmaker... can she?


End file.
